


A Hunter's Prayer at Ninety: a villanelle

by whichstiel



Series: Season 12 Codas [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coda, Gen, Hunters, Hunting, Mourning, Poetry, Saving People Hunting Things, Season/Series 12, The Family Business, Villanelle, a meditation on the hunting life, celebrating the life of asa fox, episode coda, spn 12x06
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-18
Updated: 2016-11-18
Packaged: 2018-08-31 17:46:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8587942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whichstiel/pseuds/whichstiel
Summary: A mourning dirge inspired by the line, "It's not like we're in the live-till-you're-90-die-in-your-sleep business."





	

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes you just need a poem.
> 
> This poem, along with one other, is reprinted in _Carrying On: a collection of fan poetry inspired by the TV series Supernatural_ , which is [available on Amazon](https://www.amazon.com/Carrying-Collection-Poetry-Inspired-Supernatural/dp/064698196X/ref=as_li_ss_tl?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1513017894&sr=1-1&keywords=carrying+on:+a+collection+of+fan+poetry+inspired+by+the+tv+series+supernatural&&linkCode=sl1&tag=webmabiropu-20&linkId=61e0ef73f8adb6cc64413812cbee6134).

Look on me at ninety, oh lucky dead,

while mourners gather around me and weep.

Death comes for me quiet in my own bed.

 

I met death once along the riverbed.

I taunted him and rose from waters deep.

Look on me at ninety, oh lucky dead!

 

I’ve evaded fate and her golden thread,

torn gods and angels from their lofty keep.

Death comes for me quiet in my own bed.

 

Quilted roads, a patchwork of words unsaid.

Secrets, like love, too dangerous to keep.

Look on me at ninety, oh lucky dead.

 

My world is but blade and bone and bloodshed.

And yet through the shadows monsters still creep.

Death comes for me quiet in my own bed.

 

Whither Heaven’s peace or Hell’s fiery dread?

I lie in salt and cloth and pray for sleep.

Look on me at ninety, oh lucky dead.

Death comes for me quiet in my own bed.


End file.
